Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Croatia and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Erykah Badu to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Motorama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Ronnie Foster,
Minutemen,
Max Romeo,
Ultimate Spinach,
The American Breed,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Music Machine,
Rakim,
Rotary Connection,
David Axelrod,
Arcadia,
Hot Snakes,
Parry Music,
The Vogues,
Organ,
Scientists,
Moby Grape,
Chris Corsano,
The Toasters,
Minor Threat,
the Bar-Kays,
Donald Byrd,
Soul Sonic Force,
Joy Division,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Marmalade,
Deepchord,
The Mojo Men,
The Slackers,
Soft Machine,
The Raincoats,
Goldenarms,
Icehouse,
X-Ray Spex,
Drexciya,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Lindisfarne,
The United States of America,
One Last Wish,
B.T. Express,
The Divine Comedy,
Smog,
Joyce Sims,
Drive Like Jehu,
Henry Cow,
Average White Band,
Deadbeat,
The Names,
Carl Craig,
Joensuu 1685,
The Five Americans,
Yusef Lateef,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed,
Aaron Thompson,
Heaven 17,
Harry Pussy,
Rites of Spring,
Todd Terry,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Blackbyrds,
OOIOO,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.